


afterward

by erzi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, only rated t bc of 2 of oikawa's comments the rest is cotton-candy fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 12:40:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2270061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erzi/pseuds/erzi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“How do you live with yourself, getting embarrassed over everything?”</p>
<p>“It's like you actually want me to kick you off the bed.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	afterward

**Author's Note:**

> iwaoi week day 7: free prompt

Oikawa plops down on Iwaizumi's bed with a long sigh, limbs sprawled as if he owns it. He looks at Iwaizumi. “I'm so tired,” he says, “Can I just sleep here?”

Iwaizumi walks past him, lazily throws his backpack on the ground, and goes to his closet to look for pajamas and a spare set for Oikawa. He finds his own clothes and tucks them beneath his arm; then, for Oikawa, an old shirt from their days at Kitagawa Daiichi, some shorts he's hardly ever used, and tosses them at him. They unceremoniously land on his face, and he snorts in laughter. Oikawa removes them from his face with an annoyed pout.

“No,” Iwaizumi says, “You go on the floor, and you know it.”

Of course that's not acceptable answer to Oikawa. He stretches his arms and legs out even further, occupying all the space he can. “Too late,” he says, voice lilting as he gives Iwaizumi a sickeningly sweet smile, “Your bed is mine now, Iwa-chan!” Iwaizumi restrains himself from picking up the backpack he'd carelessly flung aside earlier and hurling it at him. He closes his eyes, exhales sharply. It would be useless arguing with Oikawa at this point, not when he's rolling around his bed singing 'The bed is mine, the bed is mine' like the five year old he is.

“We'll share it, is that fine?” he suggests gruffly, cheeks warm.

Oikawa stops and eyes him curiously, and for a brief moment Iwaizumi feels like an idiot. Why did those words come out of his mouth; of course the moron's going to refuse, and obnoxiously so. And yet a heartbeat later, Oikawa is grinning, and _lewdly_ , Iwaizumi notes, and he thinks his face might be on fire.

“Iwa-chan,” he drawls, “We're dating, and you have to ask that?” He starts laughing brightly when Iwaizumi breaks his previous self-control and chucks his backpack at his head, firing a round of insults so poorly thought of in his fluster that it only makes Oikawa laugh the harder.

He pats the space beside him. “Come on now. But don't try anything funny, I'm too tired.”

“I'm not- you aren't- this isn't-!” Iwaizumi begins, absolutely certain now that his face is on fire; hell, his entire body. A billion thoughts race in his head but they can’t seem to be formed into calm, coherent words to explain that would never do something like that because he wasn't even ready for such things to begin with, but then he realized that admitting it would just add fuel to the fire that was Oikawa's mirth.

“Iwa-chan, do you need me to get a fire extinguisher? You're so red.” The pink of his tongue peeks out cheekily. “How do you live with yourself, getting embarrassed over everything?”

“It's like you actually want me to kick you off the bed.”

“Nooo!” Oikawa wraps himself up in the blankets, huffing. _Jesus Christ, this guy_. Iwaizumi walks to his bed, grabs the backpack and tosses it away again, and roughly yanks the blankets from Oikawa.

“At least have the decency to change before you start hogging the covers,” Iwaizumi mutters, pulling off his own mostly sweat-dried shirt and replacing it with the worn pajama shirt.

“A strip-tease,” Oikawa says, eyes glittering mischievously, “You're spoiling me. Do I get a handjob nex-?”

Iwaizumi throws his old shirt at his face and realizes as it softly hits Oikawa's leering face that that was probably not the best reaction to have when accused of strip-teasing.

Oikawa removes it, face scrunched up. “Gross, Iwa-chan. I love you and all but I don't want your sweaty used shirt.”

“Then shut up and let me change in peace, and you do it yourself t- oh my god, stop _grinning_ like that or I am going to punch you instead.”

“Can I at least make a comment?”

“ _No_.”

Oikawa harrumphs but does as he's told anyway. It's a little odd, their relationship, Iwaizumi thinks as he puts on his own pair of shorts. They don't actually have a problem with changing in front of each other, their shared volleyball history and equally shared locker rooms putting what would normally have been flustered faces to rest, but still Iwaizumi can’t take Oikawa's brazenness without blushing like a middle school girl. And he frustrated him very often; the idiot was just so unabashed in everything he did while still managing to be a petulant child. Yet he stayed by him all the same.

“Where do I put my dirty clothes?” Oikawa asks.

“Give them to me and I'll put them in the corner for now; we'll deal with the laundry tomorrow,” Iwaizumi answers.

Oikawa hands them over. “I want to go wash my face and brush my teeth before calling it a night, is that okay?”

“Sure, just don't make a lot of noise; everyone else is already asleep.”

He gets off the bed, smiling. “Do you still have my spare toothbrush beneath the sink?”

Iwaizumi scoffs. “You're a mooch. But yeah. You should know by now, stupid.” He smiles and it's sincere, despite his words.

“Mmm, come with me,” Oikawa says, tugging at his wrist, “I don't want to kiss you goodnight when your face is all shiny with sweat. It's bad enough we can't shower this late; at least your face and mouth should be clean.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

It's uneventful and doesn't take too long. It feels rather natural, so comfortable, like they've been doing that together for years. They sort of have, having known each other since childhood, but this feels more... domestic, like afterward, they're headed to the bed they bought together and share in their own home, and can sleep in each other's arms. Which they're about to do too, to some extent. _Huh_ , Iwaizumi thinks. He looks at Oikawa as they walk back to his room. Could he really live such a life with him? They've been friends long enough, liked each other a good while, dated for less (which could have occurred much faster if neither had been a stubborn fool, but at least they were at this point now). Being married would really only change the name of their relationship and not much else. He shakes his head. _I'm still in high school, why am I thinking about marriage?_

Oikawa pokes his cheek. “What were you thinking about Iwa-chan? You were looking at me all lovestruck.” He grins. “I do know I'm a catch, but it was cute. You should do that more often, instead of being mean and hitting me or calling me rude names- wow, why _am_ I dating you.”

“I could say the same,” he retorts as he opens his bedroom door and enters, but they both know full well why. They work well together, as opposite in personality as they are; they know each other better than their own selves. Feelings were not the easiest thing for either of them to be honest about, and they know, just like they know what they truly think of the other.

Oikawa tucks himself in first, already beginning to wrap himself in blankets in that bizarre way he claimed was most comfortable, looking at the other expectantly. Iwaizumi slides in next to him.

“Goodnight,” he says, reaching towards his lamp to turn it off.

“Waaait, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa swats at his hand. “Goodnight kiss first, because then I won't be able to see you in the dark and I might accidentally aim elsewhere.” He winks exaggeratedly and Iwaizumi blushes.

“Fine,” he cedes, and Oikawa pecks him in his lips. He chastely returns it, tasting mint. He turns back around, shuts the light off for good with a final, spoken 'goodnight' that Oikawa quietly returns as he snuggles in close, sneaking his arms around Iwaizumi and holding him tight. The smile that Iwaizumi finds himself doing tells him that he really would be alright with continuing this in the future.

**Author's Note:**

> so then they got married and raised beautiful volleyballs, the end


End file.
